One day (Analee Marie)
by Jade Johanson
Summary: One day the Doctor will break down. One day he will be left screaming in the dark. The only question is: Who can hear him scream? Complete one-shot until otherwise notified, but left as in-progress in case I want to continue it.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Okay, I really, REALLY should be working on my other story because that needs an update this week, but I just had this idea and the plot bunnies wouldn't let me leave it alone. (I'm still getting used to that phrase... plot bunnies... plot bunnies?) Anyway, I hope you enjoy. It is rated for unashamed angst and mentions of self-harm, kind of, because it's more of him getting mad and himself and punching things and that has consequences. But if you can't handle that kind of thing, DO NOT read on. I know even I got a little like, "Wow, that's dark" while I was writing this, so please, PLEASE use caution. PLEASE! I obviously own nothing but my own storyline. Because we all know if I did I would not be here, I would obviously be dragging David or Matt back onto set. Probably David. And don't even get me started about Billie... Anyhow, here's the story. (Wow, that was a long author's note.)**

* * *

It had been an extraordinarily long day, even by the Doctor's standards, and when him and the Ponds finally stumbled, sweating and shaking from exertion, back into the console room, Amy and Rory headed straight to bed.

But on the way out, Amy paused, and looking back at the Doctor quizzically, asked the inevitable question.

"Doctor, do you have a room?"

He looked up at her, smiling.

"Of course I have a room," he said. "Where do you think I spend most of my time when you two are in bed?"

Amy rolled her eyes incredulously.

"Doctor, I know what you do when we're in bed, and it is NOT sleeping."

The Doctor sighed. "Really, Amelia, I'm all right."

"No Doctor," she said, "Bed. Now."

"But I'm not TIRED," he whined, sounding for all the world like a four year old child being forced to take a nap.

Rory cleared his throat.

"Uh, Doctor?" he began. "We did just go running from aliens through fairly rocky countryside. You should at least be a little tired."

"Fine," the Doctor conceded abruptly. "I'll go."

With that he stormed out of the room and into a TARDIS blue door at the end of the hall, making a show of closing and locking the door.

Amy sighed.

"Thank you Rory," she said, giving him a peck on the cheek.

Rory blushed, mumbled a quick "It was nothing," and followed her down the hall.

In his room, the Doctor plopped down on the bed.

He was not tired in the slightest, and the gentle whirring of the various machines scattered throughout his room didn't help.

A long time ago he had soundproofed this room; if not for his own privacy, it would at least hide the frequent explosions that tended to happen in here as a result of the various failed technical meddling's.

But he could still hear it, and that was what was driving him mad currently.

 _At least it's not ticking_ he thought absentmindedly to himself.

 _Yeah_ his mind answered _because there's just another person you failed to save._

 _It wasn't my fault_ he retorted defensively.

 _Yeah_ his mind supplied _Just one star Doctor- you couldn't do one star?_

"It wasn't my fault," he whispered out loud, his voice breaking.

 _Oh but it was_ the voice inside his head taunted _She died, just like the other skeletons that you keep in your closet. Because they really are skeletons aren't they? All dead. All gone. No more._

"I used that word once and I will not use it again!" the Doctor growled, tumbling out of bed and kicking the wall.

"NEVER AGAIN," he screamed, punching the wall, ignoring the slick blood that began pouring from his knuckles at the impact.

"All you want," he shouted at the ceiling, turning around, looking at the galaxies that were passing by overhead. "Is to be shown. To be shown this- that I am the incompetent coward I name myself. You asked to be saved. Well that's what I will do. What I have always done. What I always WILL do."

Tears were pouring down his face now, but he didn't care.

"Yet I will still be the coward you name me, won't I?" he growled. "So come on, demons of the universe, and show me what you have in store. Because I shouted those words once, and I will shout them once more. NO MORE."

He kicked the wall once, so hard that he could hear his toes crack from the impact, but he didn't care.

"NO MORE will I listen to the lies I told myself."

He threw an invention against the wall, and it shattered, covering him with shards of metal and glass and causing small springs of blood to form in various places.

"NO MORE will I be worthy of the companions who take me willingly at my word.

He slammed his fist down onto a dresser, tearing away skin and leaving smears of blood behind.

"No more….." he faded off, and, weak and weary from exhaustion, practically crumpled to the floor, soft choked sobs escaping his throat as he cried.

The silent cries of the Time Lord were unknown to others.

The silent screams never reached the ears of his beloved friends.

They slept on while he lay, weary and bleeding, so utterly broken, on the floor of his room.

But they would never know.

That was what he told himself.

They could never know.

And that is how he lived day by day.

The Raggedy Man, a childhood hero.

But the Lonely Angel deep inside was calling….

And he could never say no.

* * *

 **AN: I hope you enjoyed, and there is a possibility I will continue this but it is very slim and only if enough people ask me to. :) So if you want it to be continued, either PM me or review saying that you want me to continue and give me how I could continue or why I should continue because without that I would be staring at it blankly like "I need to do something but what?" So yeah.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Hey again guys! The reaction, especially in followers and favorites, has been STUNNING, oh my gosh, thanks so much guys! I have decided to continue this because of the support I have received, so I hope it fulfills expectations. Don't expect regular updates. My life is busy. I haven't even watched Doctor Who since summer... I know, I know, it's a crime. Anyway, enough rambling, let's get to the good stuff! Here it is!**

 ***I don't own anything except the plot bunnies. Those are mine. General warnings still stand- if you are squeamish towards blood or are triggered by anything even referencing self-loathing or bordering self-harm, I don't even know why you looked at this story in the first place, much less the second chapter, but please don't read on. This may be less feelsy than the first, but it still references those things, and I don't want to get anybody hurt.**

* * *

Eventually the Doctor wiped his tear-stained eyes and looked down at the pool of blood that was slowly trickling down to his feet.

 _Weak_ his mind taunted.

"Not. Weak," he gasped feebly.

 _Oh yeah_ his mind sneered back _you're just lying on the floor of your room, sickened by the sight of your own blood. Not weak, huh?_

The Doctor growled, getting up and stumbling to the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom.

He stared at his haggard, blood crusted face and the dark circles under his eyes before turning his attention to the blood pouring from the broken skin around his knuckles and palm.

He groaned, and, with shaking hands, threw off his clothes and got into the bath.

Turning on the water, he relished the feel of the cold water splashing over his open wounds, washing the blood and grime away.

The TARDIS sent a worried hum through his mind, but he pushed her away roughly.

She couldn't help him in his pain.

After all, he deserved it.

He deserved all of it.

After a while, the Doctor's teeth began to chatter from the cold, but he kept the water running until all the blood was washed away.

Then he went, dripping and clad in nothing but a towel, back to his room.

He noticed a perceptible change in warmth and huffed.

 _You're not my mother_ he growled in his head.

The TARDIS sent him a message that clearly said _well I wouldn't have to be if you didn't do this to yourself._

The Doctor slumped back into his bed admitting defeat for a moment, and enjoying the warmth against his naked body.

Eventually he would go on.

Be the Doctor who saved everybody.

But right now he was just the tired old man who was so broken inside.

The one no one could know.

The one no one stopped to listen to.

And the one no one could ever see.

Of course the Doctor caught the little looks Amy gave him when he said something off handedly.

The worried expression of Rory when the Doctor would over-exert himself.

But the true darkness inside him…

The darkness that threatened to consume him even now that he was over the majority of the battle, of the storm-at least for that night.

They did not see that.

They were too young, too innocent.

At least that was what the Doctor told himself.

And that was the lie that kept him living.

That they would not see that darkness inside him so they would never be scared away.

And if only he saw the darkness, the indulgence of the pain in which the darkness cried out inside him could be done cleanly, safely even.

Simply because they would never know.

* * *

 **I am sorry if you are dissatisfied with the Doctor's self treatment, but I mean if he didn't want anyone to know, bulky bandages, ESPECIALLY on something like the hand that he uses a lot, is pretty noticeable, so if he can clean the wound with water until the bleeding stops and leave it to heal on its own time, that would be better. After all, he is a Time Lord and he heals a little faster, so I feel a quicker treatment might not be so bad for him, assuming his wounds are shallow like they were in this story. That's just my take.**


End file.
